


The Notes, Theories, and Assorted Ethnographic Observations of Hermione Granger in the Elemental Countries

by the_incidental_author



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Naruto
Genre: BAMF Hermione Granger, Blood, Canon-typical violence for Naruto, Gen, Hermione Granger-centric, Spitefully Ignores Epilogue and The Cursed Child, Violence, Willfully erratic update schedule, a lot of magical/chakra theory I am entirely making up, but also Friendship Monologues! So it's okay, post-war fic, really just Hermione Studies Ninja - the fanfiction, so.. a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-03-09 03:35:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13472868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_incidental_author/pseuds/the_incidental_author
Summary: Hermione Granger is a Scholar. Not a soldier or a sociophath (although there are those who would argue for both), but a scholar. And for her, that means that when her research in one avenue has hit a dead end, the best route is to take a break and get away from her work for a little bit - by researching something unrelated but equally fascinating.Or, the Hermione Needs a Vacation fic that turned into a Hermione Studies the Ninja World (and Boy is She Confused) fic.





	1. Chapter 1

              Hermione Granger was, by nature, a scholar. This was, after her ruthlessness and cold efficiency in the war against Voldemort, widely regarded as something of a narrowly dodged bullet. Her strategies and genius spell-work, as well as her Mad-Eyed-Moody levels of preparedness and over-caution (really, who had a year’s worth of camping gear packed in their purse?), were agreed to have been integral to the Light’s victory in the end. In fact, historians listed her alongside Harry Potter, Dumbledore, and Severus Snape as key figures without whose work and courage, the war would have been lost.

               And yet it is because of those same skills and strategies that Hermione Granger was regarded as _more_ dangerous than Harry, Dumbledore, or the double-triple-who-knows-how-many-layers-he-had-in-the-end-agent Snape. Because while Snape and Dumbledore and Harry were soldiers and spies and warlords, Hermione Granger was none of those things. She didn’t fight with her heart or rely on her strength of will to pull her through. Hermione Granger looked at a problem and saw a solution.

              Many times, that solution was kindness and compassion, but no one could forget the way she handled Rita Skeeter, Dolores Umbridge, and even her own parents. There was no sheen of desperation in her eyes or heroism in her actions – Hermione Granger was cold-blooded and deliberate, weighing pros and cons and acting on her calculations. The kind of person who would thrive as either an assassin or a head-of-state.

              But she was, to the relief of everyone who knew her, not a warrior or a soldier or a politician. Hermione Granger was a scholar.

              So while the Wizarding World stepped carefully around her, afraid of setting off the most powerful witch to be born in generations (no one would ever forget the time she levitated an entire wall onto a group of death-eaters without even breaking a sweat), Hermione remained happily oblivious, wrapped up in all of the studying and research she had longed to do ever since she first discovered magic, but which had been irritatingly postponed by the necessity of ending that stupid war. If the opposing side had not been targeting her best friend and, by proxy, her school, perhaps Hermione would have focused on her studies in the hope that her research would be a boon to the Light while she remained on the sidelines of the conflict, but alas, Voldemort had made the mistake of targeting Hogwarts as a way to get to Harry.

              Hermione estimated that this decision had lost him the war approximately seven years earlier than he would have if he had targeted the ministry first and then used a subtler approach to luring Harry out, but she kept those calculations to herself. No need to give any Dark-sympathetic politicians any good ideas. Besides, then she’d have to take a break from her learning to crush another puffed-up terrorist and expend all the effort of getting Harry to a state where he could learn to cope with his PTSD all over again. No, thank you. Months of unofficial therapy over afternoon tea and crumpets had left her emotionally exhausted and longing for the peace and solitude of her lab. The moment she had convinced Harry to talk to a professional about his experiences (and thus foisted him off as _someone else’s problem_ ), she had locked herself away with her studies with the order to _not interrupt me for anything short of a new Dark Lord I-mean-it-Ron-Weasley_ -

              And so, life had continued. Hermione kept in touch with her friends over the years, but she decided that she was going to live for herself now that she had the chance. Ron was, after several ‘conversations’ that ended with him in the spell-reversal ward of St. Mungos, convinced that one kiss when she thought they were going to die did not mean she would be a housewife and the mother of his brood of children, and Harry was happily set up with Ginny and working on making a brood of his own. Without needing to worry about her two boys, Hermione was finally able to look into the hundreds upon hundreds of questions her time at Hogwarts had generated – and what she found had her more excited than ever.

              There were certain laws that magic obeyed. Everyone knew that. One could not conjure food from nothing. Most types of transfiguration were not permanent – but in reality “permanent” transfiguration was not transfiguration at all, but actually a smaller branch of magic called _transmogrification_ , and it was not the temporary change of, for example, non-living to living cells that could be accomplished by transfiguration, but rather a permanent re-arranging of the existing elements and cells in an object or creature. It required a much more thorough understanding of the materials being transmogrified, but there were many benefits, such as the ability to manipulate matter down to an atomic level (a dangerous undertaking indeed, but capable of miracles if one could only…) – but she digressed.

              Magic obeyed certain rules. And, to an extent, each branch of magic obeyed some of the same rules as at least one other branch. The rules of transfiguration applied to Potions, the calculations of ingredients and timings in Potions obeyed the same rules as Arithmancy. Runes and Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts and all the rest – everything seemed to connect, the further you studied any particular subject. And it all came down to the quintessential nature of Magic itself.

              This was exciting. Most wizards and witches bothered very little with theory or philosophy. It was far easier to remember “if I say these words and wave my wand like this I can make things fly” than to understand the nature of collective knowledge and community intent, and how it effects the ambient magic of the country and therefore the way their magical cores interact with the environment around them to permit specific magical actions to be performed with nothing more than a particular set of triggers – a bit like keyboard macros in computer programming.

              But Hermione wasn’t satisfied with memorizing shortcuts. She wanted to be able to control her magic with her own will, to follow her own design. And there was something at the center of all of her studying that would let her do it, she just needed to figure out what that key element was.

              It wasn’t Intent, as transfiguration would insist. Nor was it Precision, as potions would say. Control and Willpower, as DADA and Charms would argue, were close but insufficient. Hermione scoffed to consider Intuition, which was the realm of Divination, and she disliked on principle the idea that Love and Emotion were the foundation of true Magic, despite Dumbledore’s theories. No, she was missing something that connected them all. From the big-picture thinking that made Runes work, to the almost obsessive minutiae of Arithmetic calculations…

              Frustrated, Hermione shut her notes with more force than she would normally apply to any sort of book or notebook, pushing the offending problem away to be played with after some rest. She was no good once she let her thoughts spiral. Her strengths were in her breadth of knowledge and her intuitive connections between subjects, not in her stubbornness, which caused her more trouble than good.

              Determined to get her mind off difficult magical theory, Hermione made her way to her personal library. Separate from her lab, this is where she kept books for light reading, unrelated to her research. She was halfway through a tome detailing various magical cultures around the world that she was finding particularly enjoyable.

              She had finished reading about Western magical societies, and was enjoying reading about the differences in magical governments of Eastern countries when an offhand comment in the chapter caught her eye. _The only place that the Statute of Secrecy does not apply is within the borders of the fabled Elemental Countries. Reid Siddleskroot, famed magical explorer and travel-writer, once said “the people of the elemental countries live in a pseudo-magical society, so a wizard would have no trouble passing for normal there. Besides, I wouldn’t want to try lying to a_ shinobi _, would you?”_

Hermione finished the book and flipped back through in case she had missed something (ridiculous, she never missed anything), but there was nothing more said on the subject of these “Elemental Countries” or their “shinobi.” Attention caught, and curiosity burning brighter than it had in the last several months of her research, Hermione stood and stretched, looking at the clock hung on the wall of her library by Harry (“so you can remember to sleep”) – 2:43 am. Oops.

              As Hermione brushed her teeth and got ready for bed, she thought about the new question of this pseudo-magical society where the Statue of Secrecy did not apply. Imagine – a culture where she could practice her magic wherever she liked, without restrictions or misdirection. The experiments she could perform on the nature of ambient magic…

              _Perhaps a vacation is exactly what my research needs_ , Hermione thought. _I’m sure I can find a book on the Elemental Countries tomorrow…._ Thoughts full of new cultures and giant foreign libraries of unknown knowledge carried the war heroine to sweet dreams.

             

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a little thing that popped into my head and I thought I'd enjoy writing a casual fic with Hermione flouncing around the ninja world. I'll be adding to it as inspiration hits me. If you have an idea you want to see, feel free to share, and it might make it into a future chapter. Or not. Who knows?
> 
> Also, yes Hermione 100% judges Voldemort for his poor strategy skills. I mean, really. She'd thought of a dozen ways to overthrow the Ministry by her third year. How embarrassing for him.


	2. Chapter 2

            Several months had passed since Hermione began researching the Elemental Countries, and she was quite pleased to say that she was certain she had found the way to enter them. They were not, as she had suspected, an island nation cloaked in a strong magical ward to avoid detection from the rest of the world - rather, the Elemental Nations were a parallel formation of Earth held in a semi-alternative pocket dimension only accessible through one of a few scattered gateways around the world. The nearest one of these was Stonehenge, but considering the crowds and the security, Hermione was settling for an obscure and as-of-yet-undiscovered ruin in the middle of the Amazon rainforest that she had read about in _1,001 Magical Ruins and Ritualistic Murder Sites_. Dreadfully morbid book, but terribly informative, she’d admit.

              With her entry point decided, Hermione set to preparing for a long journey. She still had her beaded bag, but she had decided to swap in out for a somewhat sturdier leather hip pouch that she had purchased at an outdoors store in London. She’d learned her lesson after a petty theif had grabbed the thin strap of her beaded purse as she was walking home from dinner one evening and broken it clean off. She’d had to wipe three muggle’s memories by the time she subdued him and retrieved her bag. The hip pouch was sturdier, and harder to get off her body. Plus, she thought it was rather cute. Like the bum bags American tourists wore around and called their “fanny packs.”

              She recast her undetectable extension and featherlight charms and repacked everything from her beaded bag into her new hip pouch. It contained all the basics – tent, medical kit, emergency potions supply, ingredients and a small, lightweight cauldron for any potions-making she might need to do… of course all of her reference texts and notes, a month’s worth of clothing for all climates, her spare wand, a modest supply of food kept fresh in plastic bins that she had carved stasis and freshness runes into…

              As Hermione quietly went through her packing list, she added the Japanese-English dictionary she’d bought as a young girl first learning the language (she’d been a fan of manga and anime in her lonely childhood years), in case she forgot a word or came across a dialect she didn’t know. She also added dictionaries for a couple of magical languages, including elvish, Daemon (the language of demons), Mermish, and the parseltongue dictionary she had strong-armed Harry into helping her create (and boy had it been a chore to translate the different types of hissing into text). Little was written about the Elemental Countries, other than it being dangerous for “civilians” as they called them, but Hermione had managed to glean oblique references to demons in human form and something called bloodline limits, which sounded like a form of Dark magic. If these things existed, what’s to say she wouldn’t come across other magical races? Hermione felt very strongly about treating sentient creatures with respect and fairness, and the importance of engaging people in their own language. If nothing else she figured “please don’t kill me giant scary demon sir” would be a lot more convincing if she said it in Daemon.

              Double and triple-checking her supplies, Hermione found herself hesitating over setting out despite knowing she was prepared for any sort of situation or climate. Where was she going to go? Oh, she was heading into the Elemental Countries, sure, but then what? Would she just wander, aimlessly, and get to know people? Hermione was not a people person. She loved to study them, sure, but most people didn’t take kindly to being interrogated or observed without some sort of friendly overtures made first. Hermione hated friendly overtures.

              _If only I knew who would be worth the time to interview_ , she thought. _Then I could just skip straight to the point and ask my questions to the people who can answer them._ She paused. Considered.

              “If only” was nothing more than a challenge to someone like Hermione Granger, and even as she lamented her shortcomings, her brain was already formulating runic formations and spell combos that would allow her to track a person based on the spiritual balance of the ambient magic in their body – or, in layman’s terms, by their knowledge and intelligence. If she could adjust the search criteria to include intent to an extent, and used herself as a mould for the magic to learn from…

              After several pages of notes and calculations, Hermione grinned down at the new runic formation in pride. If she carved this into an appropriately powerful talisman – likely something made with a precious metal or stone – she would be able to use it as a kind of compass to point her toward the nearest person fitting the description of a “like-minded scholar” once she arrived in the Elemental Countries. That would give her some direction during her journey, and allow her to meet her fellow intellectuals in another culture, and share their interests and discoveries…

              Daydreaming about all of the fascinating and intelligent people she would find, Hermione hurried to find an appropriate necklace or other trinket to turn into her tracking device. She couldn’t wait to be on her way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is about to learn that in the Elemental nations "scholar" is synonymous with "crazy power-hungry nutcase" most of the time. And "total weirdo" the rest.
> 
> These chapters are probably going to be fairly short. It's more fun to write little bits at a time, I think.


	3. Chapter 3

              Hermione ignored the _zap zap zap_ of her bug-zapper charm killing potentially-disease-carrying insects that got within an inch of her skin. Or tried to, anyway. There were rather a lot of insects in the Amazon, it turned out.

              “Okay… these are the coordinates-” _zap_ “from _1001 Magical Ruins…_ ” _zapzap_ “but where in Merlin’s name are the ruins?” _zaaaap_ “Oh for the love of- _INCENDIO!”_ With a controlled burst of magic, all of the bugs (and much of the foliage) within ten feet of Hermione was reduced to ashes. She shot a quick _augumenti_ at a small patch of smoldering undergrowth and looked around furtively, as if one of her old professors was going to jump out of the forest and scold her for losing her temper.

              _I need to calm down._ She thought, eyeing the burnt plants ruefully. Damaging a fragile ecosystem like the rainforest was not only shameful, it wasn’t getting her any closer to her goal. “But where are those bloody ruins?”

              A frantic _zap zap ZAP_ was all the warning Hermione got before something struck her hard on the back of the head.

              When she came to, her first thought was _W_ _ell at least I found the ‘ruins.’_ And her second was _They took my wand!_ They had also taken her clothing, aside from the hip pouch, which was spelled to be impossible to remove by anyone except herself, but to a witch clothes meant far less than a wand when it came to not feeling naked. She wished she could cover herself a bit, or dig in her hip pouch for her spare wand at least, but her limbs all seemed to be tied to the four corners of an altar by some sort of vine or rope. It was hard for her to see around the boulder suspended bare centimeters above her body.

              _That book really should have specified that “ruins and ritual murder sites” included_ active _ritual murders!_

The boulder descended another fraction, and the rumbling sound of people chanting rose in a wave of excitement around her. Drums shook the stone altar underneath her, and colors and shapes blurred together in her peripheral vision.

              _This is just my luck,_ Hermione sulked, _I should have just broken into Stonehenge. A few dozen confunduses would have done the trick, but no. I had to go out of my way to avoid tampering with people’s minds. That’ll teach me to be considerate._ The boulder jerked slightly and moved down another centimeter. It was now lightly brushing against Hermione’s exposed chest. She eyed it speculatively. _I wonder what is holding it suspended. There are no ropes that I can see. Just odd carvings… Almost like runes, but I don’t recognize any of the runic alphabets I’ve seen…_

A bizarre yell from near her feet had Hermione jerking against the restraints in startled motion. The cry was taken up by all of the chanting voices, and the strange rumbling and drums fed into the cacophony like a terrible racket of tone-deaf hyenas. Hermione almost wished the boulder would hurry up just so she didn’t have to keep listening to this. Even as she thought this, the unfamiliar runes on the boulder began to glow, and she got a better look at some of the symbols that she had been trying to see from her odd position on the altar. _Definitely not any of the known runic alphabets, but they almost look like Kanji…_

              A loud _snap_ was heard, if you could say something was heard that did not actually make a sound… so more like the _feeling_ of a loud _snap_ was felt, and the voices suddenly fell silent. The runes went dark, and the sense of expectation rose to a peak. Hermione didn’t even have time to sigh long-sufferingly before whatever was holding the boulder aloft disappeared and all of its impressive weight came down on top of her.

              It didn’t hurt. It felt more bizarre than anything. As if someone had suddenly switched off all the light around her and stopped all the air from moving. She couldn’t feel the slightest breeze, or even the sensation of temperature, hot or cold. She didn’t get the impression that she was experiencing sensory deprivation, though. Just that there _was_ no temperature in this place, whatever it was.

              A small change in the air drew her attention towards a figure materializing out of the nothingness. It was vaguely humanoid, wearing a white robe-like article of clothing that might have been a Japanese yukata, or might have been an English bathrobe. It was hard to determine textures with the figure being semi-transparent. As it came into more definition, Hermione could feel its magical aura filling the emptiness of the space around her, and she stilled in recognition. _Death._

              Witches and wizards had a unique relationship with Death. They, unlike muggles, were able to choose to remain on Earth as ghosts, or continue on to the afterlife or reincarnation, depending on what Death had planned for their soul. It was not that they had any authority over the all-powerful entity, but rather that their relationship with Death tended to be a lot more… consensual, than the relationship the being might have with a muggle.

              Still, Hermione couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous at the sight of the death god. One might think being used as a human sacrifice in a magical murder ritual would have clued her in that this was about to happen, but with her odd luck it had been equally as likely that having a boulder dropped on her would have simply had her reappearing in the center of the 2002 Quidditch world cup!

              Death fully materialized, and Hermione took a moment to study the figure before her. He had a mane of white hair that rivalled her own for bushiness, although his was perfectly straight, and a pair of horns poking out from between the alabaster strands. His skin was purple – a rather fetching lavender color, Hermione thought, but it was ruined by the permanent furrows in his brow and the piercing yellow irises set in black sclera of his eyes. Combined with the shark-like, dark grey teeth dripping saliva over the handle of some sort of short sword the god, for reasons Hermione could not imagine, seemed to be teething on, she could understand why he always appeared to the living as a figure in a dark, hooded cloak.

              Uncertain of what to do, Hermione waited for Death to say something, or address her, or reap her soul, or _something,_ but all the entity seemed to want to do was stand there and look at her with what could almost be a bemused expression if not for the permanently terrifying look his face seemed to be stuck in. Hermione resisted the urge to fidget and figured she might as well greet the only other being in this seemingly endless void she was currently in. She’d never met the queen during her life, and since her life was apparently over, she doubted she’d have the chance, so she figured she might as well take this opportunity to curtsy to _someone._

              She lowered herself into the curtsy and bowed her head, held the position for a few moments, until she started to think about the fact that she wasn’t really standing on anything because there was _nothing in this void oh Merlin how does this work???_ At which point she rose from her curtsy before her knees could start to shake from the unsettling lack of physics around her.

              Death blinked, and the furrow in his brow seemed to lessen a bit. Hermione was almost sure he looked bemused now, and she wondered if perhaps he was mute as a result of the sword in his jaws. Perhaps it was stuck there with some sort of sticking charm. She wondered if Fred Weasley had not gone gentle into that good night after all. Perhaps she was witnessing the results of his final, posthumous prank.

              “Um.” Hermione cleared her throat. “Hello. My name is Hermione Granger.”

              Death stared at her in silence. She got the impression he was saying _I already knew that_.

              “I was looking for an entrance into the Elemental Countries, but I seem to have been captured and used as a human sacrifice.” She continued, uncertain what else to say. The sword did not move in Death’s mouth, but she could almost feel a question directed toward her. _Why?_ She wondered if he meant _why were you looking for an entrance_ or _why were you used as a human sacrifice_. She figured she’d avoid talking about her apparent death, just in case it gave him any ideas she’d find unpleasant. “I want to continue to study magic, and I’ve read that the Elemental Countries are the only place where the Statue of Secrecy doesn’t apply, because their whole society is pseudo-magical. I was curious what that meant, and thought it would be a profitable avenue of research. If a whole society can be pseudo-magical, despite it being physically impossible for _everyone_ in any society to have the genetic disposition to be witch or wizard, then there must be something more to Magic that we’re missing, right? So, I thought, if I could just meet the scholars there, and compare notes, perhaps we could…” She caught herself rambling, and blushed, looking down at her feet. _Oh bollocks, now I’ve gone and embarrassed myself in front of Death. The one thing I’ll_ really _never be able to live down!_

There was a long moment, or perhaps it was several years, there was no sense of time in this strange void, that felt distinctly considering. She didn’t want to know what kind of things Death had to consider, so she continued to stare at her feet and try to regain her composure. Finally, Death moved. Hermione looked up, and stared in fascination as Death reached up and removed the short sword from his mouth. _So, I suppose it wasn’t Fred’s last and greatest prank after all. Pity._ The entity raised the sword above his head slowly, like a salute, and then drew it to the side, holding it out level at shoulder height. Or, rather, several meters above Hermione’s head, since the entity was so much taller than she was.

In a move too swift for her eyes to follow, the sword was brought down in a smooth slash, and a seam was opened up in the nothingness around them. Hermione gaped at the sight of color, and light, and leaves moving in the wind. She looked at Death questioningly, but the being just tilted his head toward the rip – no, the doorway? He must have meant it for her to go through, since he made sure it continued down to her level.

She approached the tear in the void and peaked through, feeling the breeze against her cheeks with a shock. It was nearly painful after the nothingness of the void. She put her hand through and recoiled at the level of ambient magic on her skin. It was much more than she was used to in her own world.

“Is this… the Elemental Countries?” She asked in wonder, looking up at Death where he towered over her small form. Standing so close to the greater being, she barely reached his knee. For a moment she felt an uncharacteristic sympathy for small children and dogs, and wondered if that strange look on Death’s face was him thinking she was cute.

She didn’t have time to find out, however, as the entity reached down and, with a surprising gentleness, shoved her through the gap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand Hermione is finally in the Elemental Countries! Thanks, Death. What a pal. 
> 
> Who should I have her meet in the Naruto verse? Hmmm....


	4. Chapter 4

              Hermione landed face-first. This was the only reason she would ever call landing in a bush “fortunate” but the fact remained that the bush she landed in was probably the only reason her entrance to the Elemental Countries was not accompanied by a broken nose.

_Damn non-verbal entities with their weird dimension-cutting swords that are probably just some sort of oral fetish._ Hermione pushed herself up and went to brush off her robes, only to find she was still nude save for her hip pouch. The remains of a rope made with well-braided leaf fibers still clung to one of her wrists. She ran her hands over her body, but she was still in one piece and decidedly not flattened under a boulder. _Well, at least there’s that._

              Digging in her hip pouch for her spare wand and a new set of clothes, Hermione quickly dressed herself and made a token effort to fix her hair. The necklace she had carved her tracking runes onto had been taken along with her wand and clothes, and although it was easy enough for her to make a new one, she would have to find a suitable necklace or trinket to carve it on before she could get a move on.

              _I wonder where I ended up._ A quick point-me charm had her facing north, but the forest looked endless from the middle of it. With a shrug, she chose a random direction and started hiking. At least the weather was fairly mild and there was a pleasant breeze here.

              Several hours later, the trees had become suffused with the soft amber light of sunset, and Hermione was ready to curse whoever designed “sensible” footwear for the English witch. She’d be better off with a sturdy pair of hiking boots, if there were always going to be so few roads in this world. And so few towns. What kind of massive forest had she landed in that there had been no signs of civilization all day? _My kingdom for a map!_ She despaired.

              Hermione was putting off setting up camp in the hope that she would stumble across a town or settlement just around the next copse of trees. She’d been wandering around the Amazon for a couple of days before she had been so rudely sacrificed, and she was longing for a hot shower. Sure, magic could do a lot of things, but even her fancy tent could only produce cold water from its enchanted pipes. _I should move designing a runic array for heating water up my priority list if this is how travelling here is going to be._

              Perhaps she shouldn’t have been travelling after dark as a lone young woman, but Hermione was used to being the most dangerous person in the room for a long time now, and she’d almost forgotten that she looked like an easy target to most of the world. So when the bandit (she assumed that’s what he was – he was wearing a rather comically high pair of pants, a dozen small pouches, and a large sling with a sword in it that looked like it would be incredibly un-aerodynamic) stepped out in front of her and grinned, her first thought was not _he wants to rob me_ but instead _he has terrible dental hygiene._

              “Hello?” She tried Japanese, hoping her books hadn’t betrayed her a second time. The bandit seemed confused. She tried again. “Good… evening? It is nice to meet you.” She bowed, for good measure.

              “Not the usual reaction, I gotta say, little lady.” The bandit chuckled. Hermione worked on understanding his dialect and nodded slowly.

              “What is the usual reaction?” She asked. He looked at her like she was stupid, and Hermione was tempted to point out that he was the one who had just stood there grinning like a moron until she spoke.

              “A lot more screaming and begging, typically.” He mused, and then unsheathed the sword from his sling. _So it’s not just a gaudy accessory? What a terrible weapon design._ “Now, I’ll be taking everything you have there, girly. And if you’re good, I’ll even point you in the direction of the nearest town so maybe you’ll not be taken advantage of by any of my… less gentlemanly compatriots.” His smile was greasy when he looked at her.

              It was at this point that Hermione remembered that being a woman came with all sorts of inconveniences, like expensive underwear and monthly illnesses and people thinking they can treat you like dirt and get off scot free. _Well, that might be true if I was relying on some sort of criminal justice system._ Hermione thought ruefully, remembering how the Ministry tended to handle sexual misconduct allegations. _But luckily, I’ve just helped win a war that had the handy little consequence of breaking my habit of deferring to authority._

              With a practiced ease, Hermione drew her spare wand. It wasn’t as powerful as her primary, and she regretted that for a moment before pushing it aside as a useless complaint. Eyeing the many pouches and pockets the bandit seemed to favor, and remembering the brief description she had gleaned of the type of warfare conducted in the Elemental Countries, Hermione decided she would need to watch out for thrown weapons, but not guns.

              _Anti-magnetic shield should do the trick_. With a flick of her wrist, her shield was up, and she watched the bandit approach with interest. He was moving slowly, clearly trying to be menacing as he repeated his demands for her to hand over everything she had. She wondered if he had any weapons that were made of non-magnetic materials. His sword was clearly steel, but perhaps…

              Her worries were never fully formed before the bandit seemed to lose patience and took a large overhead swing at her with his misshapen sword. It crossed the boundary of her anti-magnetic shield and seemed to meet some sort of elastic force, before rebounding off with an equally vicious swing. Unfortunately, the bandit’s overhead swing was better than his dodging skills – or perhaps he’d never had to practice dodging his own blows before – because in very short order he had re-sheathed his sword within his own head, and partly into his shoulders.

              Hermione made a choked sound of horror at the sight, covering her mouth with one hand. She had seen a lot of people die, in some very gruesome ways, but wizards were typically long-range fighters, and she didn’t have much of a stomach for blood without time to brace herself.

              After a few minutes, and some quiet retching in a nearby bush, Hermione managed to compartmentalize this new horror and calm her breathing. _Not as bad as seeing a werewolf tear into someone_ , she tried to comfort herself. _At least this was quick and there wasn’t a struggle._ She quickly decided to never attempt to comfort anyone again. She was rubbish at it.

              Rubbing some warmth into her arms, Hermione stood and tried to decide what to do next. The bandit had mentioned something about the nearest town, but she couldn’t ask him for directions for… obvious reasons. She could keep walking, but now that she had stopped she was beginning to feel the lateness of the hour, and suddenly every shadow seemed to hold some new monstrous vision for her to see.

              She needed to go somewhere and set up camp. She could start her search again when she was well-rested and… not so unsettled. She took one step and paused, glancing back. Should she… do something with the body? It seemed wrong to just leave it there… But it would be difficult to bury it – she could dig a hole with magic, but it would take time, and she wasn’t sure what his name was. She had no way to mark a grave, so no one would know he was here…

              _Perhaps I should leave him, for his… compatriots… to find?_ Hermione bit her lip. She didn’t get the impression that they were the type to honor a fallen comrade. Still, the possibility of discovery would be better than a shallow, anonymous grave… right?

              She nodded. She’d leave him, and if she encountered any more bandits, she would direct them back here so that they could give him a proper burial. Surely there has to be at least that much honor among thieves? I mean, what with the robbing and the pillaging, it’s not like they wouldn’t be able to afford it.

              Hermione paused once again, looking back. _Robbing and pillaging…_ A bandit would have certain requirements for what they would take. Lightweight but valuable, preferably…

              _No._ Hermione told herself. _I am not going around looting corpses._

_But he was a bandit…_ She bit her lip and hesitated, always her own worst enemy. _It’s not exactly looting if I just grab one thing... and I really need to replace my tracking runes…_

Decision made, Hermione drew her wand and pointed it at the body across the clearing. “ _Accio_ jewelry!” She said clearly. The veritable hailstorm of shiny objects that ripped free of the masked man’s pockets and pouches made her dive for cover. They landed in a heap just behind where she had been. _Well, it looks like I have plenty to choose from_ , she thought optimistically, ignoring the little voice that pointed out that she was _so totally looting a corpse right now_.

              She finally settled on a simple gold bangle with a single opal set into it. It wasn’t so expensive-looking as to draw attention, like most of the other items the bandit had acquired, but it had enough precious metal to hold her runes well, and gold was easy to engrave with a simple, low-powered cutting spell.

              Leaving the rest untouched in a pile on the ground, Hermione hurried out of the clearing and didn’t set up camp until she came across a small river that looked sufficiently different from the area she had just been in to avoid giving her nightmares.

              Somewhere behind her, she imagined she heard Death laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so she's finally in the world of Naruto! And... it's mostly trees, really. A lot of trees. Too many.
> 
> Poor, innocent Hermione. She might be (disturbingly) good at justifying terrible things to herself, but she's going to need to get over that aversion to blood ASAP if she wants this vacation to go well.


	5. Chapter 5

              Hermione decided her second day in the Elemental Countries was turning out to be a good one. She’d managed to sleep well with the help of a little Dreamless Sleep Potion (diluted into a cup of tea, of course. Tea solved all ills), and the first thing she’d done upon waking up was re-carve her tracking runes into her newly-acquired bangle. And they worked! She could feel the slight thrum of magic like a thread connecting her left wrist to several different potential matches for the criteria of “like-minded scholar.” And for an added bonus, it felt like several of them were clustered rather closely together! It was an easy decision to follow that trail and meet several scholars at once. Perhaps she was heading toward some sort of research institute or university.

              So yes, things were looking up for Hermione’s trip, and after all the unpleasantness from the night before, she had taken to carrying the replica sword of Gryffindor (which had oddly enough been given to her as a sort of token of honor after the end of the war, as if a knock-off of a legendary sword somehow represented her actions in the war… she’d not think too deeply on it) on her hip to dissuade anyone from thinking her an easy mark.

              And in addition to that, just after mid-day, she’d come across another pair of bandits harassing what looked like a travelling merchant family. She had intervened (sticking to the classic stun and secure method, rather than any more experimental shield charms), and earned the gratitude of the merchants, who were heading in the same general direction as she was, as well as being able to inform one of the bandits of the unfortunate fate of their comrade.

              “I’m terribly sorry about how that turned out, but I’d like to know that he’ll at least get a proper resting place.” Hermione told him, while he looked paler and paler with every word she said. “You’ll make sure that happens, won’t you? I can tell you where he is…”

              “No, that’s alright.” The bandit’s voice cracked a bit, and Hermione worried that her stunner had been too strong until he cleared his throat and tried again. “Quite alright. We uh… We found him this morning. That… that was you, then?” He looked like a man who had unknowingly stepped on a poisonous snake and was waiting to see what it would do.

              “Yes.” Hermione said apologetically. “I’m afraid it was. I’m glad to hear you’ve found him, although you understand that I can’t just let you go on and continue robbing people…” The bandit was beginning to sweat now. Hermione wondered if he was perhaps ill.

              After transfiguring all of the two bandits’ weapons into soft, foam toys (which, oddly enough, seemed to _relieve_ the bandits… perhaps they were glad for the chance for reform?), Hermione and the merchant family set off.

              They were a small family, no children yet, although when Hermione asked if they were planning on any, the wife sent her husband a shy smile and he had beamed back so brightly Hermione almost had to look away. The couple were travelling with the wife’s brother and their uncle, and all of them were what they called “vassals” of some clan in Konoha called the Akimichi.

              “We trade in spices!” The uncle, Jirou, or Jiro, or something like that, boomed. He was a large man, apparently a second cousin to the main family line, and proud of his clan relations. Hermione was having a hard time keeping track of all of the foreign names and family titles. She stuck to calling them all “Akimichi-san” and hoping for the best. The discussion remained light, focused on spices and market conditions, and the various cities they’d seen in their travels. When Hermione told them she had come from outside of the Elemental Countries to visit, there had been a bit of a clamor as they all tried to ask her questions at once. She’d finally, laughingly, told them that she was just a travelling scholar, and that she came from a country a long way away and that her subject of study was magic.

              “Magic?” Jirou echoed. “You mean that strange jutsu you used earlier to disarm those bandits?”

              “Jutsu?” Hermione didn’t recognize that word. A smile split her face and before her new companions knew what hit them, they’d been so overwhelmed by questions that they had managed to give Hermione an overview of not only a civilian-level understanding of chakra theory and jutsu, but the political structure of the ninja villages and the education therein. Finally, Hermione fell silent, mulling over everything she’d learned and trying to build a picture of what kind of scholars a semi-magical military dictatorship would produce. Her companions were glad for the moment of peace.

 

              Konoha reminded Hermione of Hogsmeade in that it seemed to be patchwork of different architectures and time-periods (in fact the Elemental Countries seemed to be unable to make up its mind as to what century it was in, much like the magical world back home). The biggest difference Hermione could see from her vantage point just outside the gates was that Konoha was quite a bit larger than Hogsmeade ever was, and it had an overabundance of trees – some of them seemed to be part of the buildings.

              The gate was another difference. Hermione’s first impression was that it was a very big, very useless deterrent for anyone magical enough to cast a Notice-Me-Not charm and buy a pair of anti-gravity boots, but then she sensed the strange wards within the stone and re-evaluated. This was a military city, even if they were only pseudo-magical. It wouldn’t do for her to underestimate them.

              Jirou did most of the talking, and introduced her to the guards at the gate as “a heroic ninja scholar” which made Hermione splutter, but before she knew it she was handing over her passport (which got her some odd looks – her magical passport was on parchment, so it didn’t stick out as much as her muggle one would have, but it still seemed out-of-place when everyone here appeared to only use scrolls) and being guided to the administrative office for paperwork. She was used to bureaucracy, so didn’t think much of this until she found herself alone in a room with a blonde man in a strange hat and billowing white robes decorated with what looked like flame decals. He reminded her of Dumbledore, with his twinkling blue eyes and eccentric outfit. Despite the lack of portraits pretending to sleep along the walls, Hermione still had the feeling that they were being watched very closely, despite the empty-looking room.

              “Um… Hello. My name is Hermione Granger. I’m a scholar of magic, and I was hoping to share my notes with other scholars and compare theories…” She wasn’t really sure who she was speaking to, other than him being obviously important. No one had given her a name or a title to address him by. “It’s nice to meet you, Shinobi-sama?”

              The twinkling intensified, and Hermione started to sweat.

              “My name is Namikaze Minato, the Fourth Hokage. You can address me as Hokage-sama or Minato-sama, whichever you prefer. It is a pleasure to meet such an enthusiastic scholar.” His smile was disarming, his whole being suggesting friendliness and composure. Hermione couldn’t find a single thing about him that said _I’m thinking about killing you_ and yet somehow that was exactly the impression he managed to give off. “I have the paperwork for a visitor’s visa here, and we can get that taken care of right now, if you like! Please, have a seat. I just have a few questions I’ll need you to answer…”

              Hermione walked slowly forward and took a seat in the chair in front of his desk. She felt inexplicably that any sudden movements would be a Tremendously Bad Idea. As the friendly, terrifying man shuffled through his papers and searched for a pen, Hermione got the feeling she was in a little bit over her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um.
> 
> I was planning on Hermione strolling into Konoha in like, the Chunin-Exam arc or something, but then my hands just went and typed this instead so... yeah. We're in a time when Minato's still alive. As are many people who we will now be seeing a lot of. Oops.


	6. Chapter 6

              Hermione wasn’t entirely sure how she ended up here. She had answered the Hokage’s questions honestly, and for the most part they had seemed very much like what the paperwork for a visitor’s visa would normally include. And yet each time, she had felt like there was a particular right and wrong answer to the open-ended questions, and she wasn’t sure which one she was giving.

              The blonde man had seemed relaxed enough, and he had even welcomed her to Konoha at the end of their… interview? Hermione had thanked him for his hospitality and tried her best to ignore the sense of absolute terror he induced in her. Her smile may have been a bit shaky, but he didn’t seem to mind that any more than he minded anything else, so she hoped it was okay.

              After that had been a whirlwind of terrifying people explaining the rules for her stay in Konoha – no wandering into restricted districts, no being out after curfew or a shinobi would escort her home, no access to anything but the public civilian library… Hermione tried to express her outrage at being denied access to books, but that concern was overridden by the more immediate concern she had been given.

              She was to be accompanied by an elite Jounin guard at all times. He would be both her monitor and her defense against anyone who attempted to harm her, since she was obviously an untrained civilian (she took offense to that) and a shinobi could, and she quotes, “probably snap you over one knee like a stick.”

              And all of her protests on this subject had been once again overridden by the introduction of her _elite Jounin guard._ Who was a child. Like, she’d place him as a first-year at Hogwarts, he was so tiny. His hair was an odd silver color and stuck up at odd angles from underneath his shiny headband (and everyone seemed to be wearing them. Wouldn’t the metal plate pull the cloth down with its weight? The boy’s headband was so lob-sided that it was covering one of his eyes entirely. Had he just given up on adjusting it?). He wore a mask over the lower half of his face, which seemed to be built into the shirt he was wearing. Maybe he was shy?

              “Hello. Um. I’ll be in your care.” Hermione recited, remembering the usual greeting for coworkers and other such introductions. This felt like a good time to use it. The boy’s single visible eye was gray and drooped as if he was on the verge of falling asleep. It reminded her of a pug, and she tried not to show that thought on her face, but assumed by his slight glare that she failed. He said nothing, only staring her down for a few seconds before turning to the ninja behind the desk expectantly. Nameless Grunt #3, as Hermione had taken to calling him in her head, handing her tiny escort a file of paperwork, giving him instructions to stay with her and help her find lodging. There was very obviously a bunch of subtle communication going on from the small twitches and gestures the two were making, and the very obviously significant looks they kept giving each other, but Hermione did the polite thing and pretended not to notice their less-than-subtle plotting as she admired the wall hangings of the immigration office.

              Finally, the very obvious silent conversation seemed to end and her silver-haired child-guardian turned sharply on his heel and strode out of the room. Hermione looked after him in bewilderment and glanced at the desk ninja in confusion. He motioned for her to follow the boy, who had already disappeared into the hallway. Hermione sent a much-aggrieved look to the ceiling and went after him. He sure was fast for how short his legs were. He had already made it all the way to the end of the long hallway and seemed to be waiting impatiently for her. She very deliberately didn’t rush.

              From the narrowed look of his one visible eye, she thought he appreciated her passive-aggressive gesture for what it was. She beamed at him.

              "Thanks for waiting." She did her best to keep her sarcasm out of her voice, still smiling forcefully. His face didn’t change, but she had the impression of a cat twitching and arching its back in dislike. His hair seemed to poof out a bit with his irritation, as if it was becoming charged with static electricity. _Accidental magic_? Hermione wondered. That certainly reinforced her estimation that he was barely old enough for Hogwarts. If he was older, he’d have better magical control.

              He turned and continued to walk in silence, Hermione wasn't concerned with wherever her surly guard was leading her. If worst came to worst, she could always pitch her tent within the city walls for the night. Or just abandon her guard for the nearest hotel when she got tired. If he didn’t follow her, that was his failure as a guard, rather than her fault as an unsuspecting tourist.

              When they finally stopped, it was in a rather bizarre residential district. Most of the apartments were old but still in excellent condition, as if they had been left empty for most of their existence. But in contrast to the strange lack of normal wear, there were large sections of all of the buildings that seemed to have been replaced or repaired multiple times. Roofs, high windows, certain telephone poles… It was as if this particular neighborhood was prone to freak lightning storms and football-sized hail. Or… person-sized hail. Hermione eyed a hole in one roof with trepidation. That looked distinctly like someone had been thrown _out_ through the ceiling of an apartment building…

              “Wait here.” Hermione almost didn’t realize the voice belonged to her little guard at first. She had half-thought he would refuse to speak to her for her entire stay. Before she could reply, or nod, or anything, he disappeared. A few leaves gently floated to the ground where he had been standing, and Hermione blinked slowly. _Did he apparate?_ But he was 11. And what were those leaves about?

              Hermione was in the process of casting her third diagnostic charm only to find that they were, in fact, perfectly normal leaves (except there were no maple trees within a mile of them, Hermione was certain…) when her little guard reappeared as suddenly as he had left. She froze in her crouch, looming over a small pile of leaves like some sort of bizarre surgeon, and stared at him. He stared back with his single, droopy grey eye, and said nothing. She stood up.

              “Ah… What’s that?” She asked, pointing to the backpack that had joined the small sword across his back. It was the only difference she could see from before his little disappearing trick.

              “My things.” He said shortly. Hermione raised an eyebrow, but nodded. So this was where he lived, then? And apparently, he was going to be following her a little more closely than she had initially anticipated, if he was packing for a sleepover… _Oh god, I’m going to end up babysitting my elite guard._ Hermione wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or scream. She’d never been great with children. It was part of the reason she wasn’t about to touch a relationship with Ron Weasley with a ten-foot-pole. No way was she going to be a stay-at-home _mom._

              “Riiiight.” She said, when the silence dragged on a bit too long. “Well, I suppose I could start wandering the city in search of fellow researchers today, but I’d rather get dinner and take a hot shower and start my search tomorrow. Any recommendations for a hotel around here?”

              With what Hermione was beginning to suspect was a typical lack of care for things like _social norms_ and _manners,_ her tiny guard set off without a word or any indication that he expected her to follow. Hermione sighed and trailed after him, before brightening. At least if he was quiet and led her to the things she needed, she could pretend he was just a very short, very quiet goblin, and ignore his clear offense at her very existence. That was practically affectionate for a goblin, after all.

              If her guard sent her any odd looks from the corner of his eyes as she grinned at the mental image of him sitting high up on one of the goblin’s over-sized desks, she pretended not to notice.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note, since the Naruto timeline is super confusing, that currently Orochimaru has NOT left the village. Even though Minato is Hokage. In my timeline, he threw away his loyalty to Konoha when Minato was chosen over him, but he does not leave until after Minato dies during the Kyuubi attack, because Minato is stronger than him and would probably kill him, but Sarutobi would let him go. This might not match your understanding of the timeline, but shhhh just let it happen we all want Hermione to meet Orochimaru and this is how it can happen.
> 
> Also, Kakashi is so smol. So angry. So rude.


	7. Chapter 7

              Hermione woke up, feeling about as fresh as the accumulated gunk behind Kreacher’s ears. Her eyes were glued shut with grit, and there was dried drool all along her left cheek. She must have slept on her side. She levered herself into an upright position with a grunt, staring blearily ahead of her for several seconds. Her tiny guard didn’t bat an eyelash at her less-than-perfect state, although his eye did wander to her hair and linger there for a time. Hermione glared at him and tried to cast _incendio_ using only her mind. What right did he have to look so normal this early in the day? Stupid child soldier with their fluffy goblin hair… wait.

              She had gotten her guard his own room last night when they arrived at the inn. Hermione glanced at the door to see that, yes, it was still locked. And she could sense her wards had not been disabled. What the hell?

              There was a long silence as Hermione’s mouth caught up to her brain, and by that point what came out of her mouth was “did you stand there and watch me sleep all night?” instead of her much more reasonably-worded _how did you get in?_ She considered going back to sleep and pretending this was part of a very odd dream, but her guard’s continued silence and steady stare were unnerving enough that she doubted she’d be able to get any more rest.

              “Right. Well. I’ll take that as a very unsettling yes, then.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’m just going to take a shower.”

              “You showered last night.” Oh, so now he can talk. Is he doing the silent thing on purpose? Creepy little shit.

              “Well, I’m going to shower again. And then I’m going to go looking for a decent cup of tea.” She huffed and grabbed her bag on the way to the bathroom. As soon as she had locked the door behind her (not that it would apparently stop her sneaky little guard), she turned and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Having gone to bed immediately after her shower, half of her hair was in its usual mess of curls, and the other half was plastered against her scalp in a matted impression of her pillow. Remembering the eye that had lingered on her hair, Hermione thought of all the hexes she’d like to teach her companion. _With practical demonstrations, of course._ She promised darkly, stripping and climbing into the shower.

              One (very hot) shower later, Hermione exited the bathroom cleaner and more awake, straightening out a new pair of clothes. The bangle she had, ahem, _acquired,_ was mostly hidden from sight by the long sleeves of the robe she tossed over her muggle clothing. She was proud of her roots, but after a decade living and working in the wizarding world, she was used to the comforting weight and warmth of the overgarment. She ignored her guard’s silent judgement of her clothes, and his suspicious squint at her hip bag. Not even her tiny nameless goblin friend could bring her down now that she was awake enough for the excitement of her project to come back to her.

              They were here. At least three of the most powerful signals her tracking runes had managed to pick up were somewhere in this village. She could feel them moving as if they were interacting with a perimeter ward – the _ping_ of them crossing over the boundary line would sound in her magical core every ten minutes or so, giving her a rough idea of which direction each of the other scholars was located at that moment. They weren’t all gathered in one place, which she might have expected if there were a university or some sort of laboratory in the village. Was it possible for there to be three different universities in a village this size? Hermione doubted it.

              She decided to get breakfast first, in case her fellow scholars just hadn’t gone in to work yet. If she noticed them congregating, she would head in that direction. If not… She’d just pick one and start there. She made it about half a block into town before something with the speed of a rampaging hippogriff and the eye-searing green of a Slytherin necktie blew past her, kicking up dust and gravel from the road and into her hair. Hermione coughed and waved a hand to clear the air, and a booming voice rang out from slightly behind her.

              “KAKASHI! I CHALLENGE YOU!” The green thing was actually a person – another child? But one with obscenely muscled arms poking out from a sleeveless full-body jumpsuit with a strange red handkerchief around his neck…

              “Not now, Gai. I’m on the job.” Her tiny guard (Kakashi? Was that his name?) managed to sound clipped and professional, despite the pointed finger being held bare millimeters in front of his nose. Hermione watched the newcomer, Gai, splutter and apologize, bowing to both her and Kakashi, and decided that he didn’t seem too bad. Friendlier than anyone else she had encountered (and a blessed contrast to her guard’s silent staring), and despite his weird fashion sense, he wasn’t really any worse than most wizards attempting to go incognito and blend in with muggles. Hell, he even managed to coordinate his strange scarf and his belt. Better than most wizards, then.

              “It’s really no trouble.” Hermione interrupted his very poetic apology, stepping forward and offering a small bow as she introduced herself. “… You’re a friend of my guard, then? We were just looking for somewhere to eat breakfast. You’re welcome to join us if you have a recommendation.” Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Kakashi palm his face, but when she looked at him he was as stoic as always. Gai’s eyes filled with tears.

              “Such a kind invitation from a beautiful visiting flower cannot be refused! As Konoha’s Sublime Blue Beast, I will do my best to show you true Konoha hospitality, and if I fail I promise to climb the Hokage monument using only my hands 100 times.” Gai had taken her hand at some point during this declaration, and appeared to be producing a small sunset behind him. Hermione smiled and assured him that he needn’t climb any monuments (was he talking about that mountain across the village?! That was huge!) but she would appreciate something warm to eat. After he had let go of her hand, she discretely pointed her wand toward where the sunset had been, but there were no traces of magic being performed.

              “Come on.” Her guard grabbed her by the arm and dragged her along behind him, much to Hermione’s irritation. “Gai’s already gone ahead. You’ve gotten him all riled up so we have to catch up while the restaurant is still standing.” Hermione scowled at the child dragging her with ease (and wasn’t that humiliating? She was a war veteran! A respected and powerful sorceress! He was…  a prepubescent brat!) and looked around, noticing that he was right and their Slytherin-bedecked companion had disappeared.

              “There’s no need to leave bruises on my arm.” She huffed, pulling free. His grip had not been bruising, probably carefully so, but it had been far from comfortable and had pulled her shoulder painfully as they moved. Kakashi gave her a flat look and then continued walking, clearly telling her without words to _hurry the hell up_. She bit down a growl, glaring at the back of his head as she followed. It was infuriating to know that he had _let_ her pull away from his grip, as if there was no way she would have been able to escape him if he hadn’t wanted her to. Damn, arrogant, pint-sized ninja guard.

              “Don’t get lost.” He called back, sounding bored, and Hermione’s eye twitched. When they rounded a corner toward a more secluded street and away from potential witnesses, she quickly sent a stinging hex at his behind, relishing in the squeak he let out as he jumped in surprise. Wand quickly stowed back up her sleeve, and looking as innocent as she could manage, Hermione met the accusing look shot back at her. She tilted her head at him, as if to say _who, me? I’m a good ten feet behind you Mr. Elite Shinobi, what could I have done?_

              He was still giving her a suspicious glare when they entered a small tea shop from which Gai’s loud and excited voice could be heard extoling the virtues of green tea to anyone within a half-mile radius. Hermione was gratified to see several promising blends on the menu. At long last! 

              There is only one other customer in the shop – a young girl with purple hair, inhaling insane amounts of some sort of donuts or dumplings on skewers – so Hermione guides Gai toward a comfortable-looking booth near the window, Kakashi following with exaggerated reluctance. She can see him eyeing the breakfast sandwiches. Kid his age, he’s probably a bottomless pit, and he’s been pretending not to need to eat, sleep, or pee ever since they’ve been introduced. The part of Hermione that was used to scolding Ron on his manners and mothering Harry when he was too busy being a stressed and moody war-hero to eat properly rose up, and she felt some of her annoyance get pushed aside. _Still a brat, though._

              _But only because he’s just a kid._ The mother hen in her whispered. Hermione sighed and focused on choosing her order.

              Ten minutes later, Hermione found herself smiling at Gai’s excited retelling of a recent mission he had shared with Kakashi. His hand gestures and facial expressions were so dramatic she couldn’t help but giggle, and although she suspected she was getting a heavily-fabricated version of events, considering how secretive her books had described Shinobi politics to be, she still felt like she was getting to see a genuine side of her new companion. And not only Gai.

              Kakashi had transformed the moment Gai’s attention turned to him. Whereas before she’d seen nothing but a petulant brat and a somewhat creepy guard, she could now see what he was like when he had the chance to be around someone who made him comfortable. And it was… nice. He wasn’t exuberant, but it was obvious that he was just playing cool to get a rise out of his “Eternal Rival” and not because he was truly indifferent. He still went along with the silly stories, and when Gai challenged him to an elaborate game of table hockey using some sugar packets from the table, Kakashi went along easily with the embarrassing antics. Hermione was in tears of laughter from seeing the two shinobi competing so seriously in a kid’s game when she was distracted by a pull at the magic of her tracking runes.

              One of her targets had just crossed half the village in less than five seconds. Hermione blinked in bewilderment and turned in her seat to face the door. The signature approached, easily felt interacting with her runes now that it was so close, and stopped in front of the entrance. The shop had fallen silent and her companions had tensed, but Hermione didn’t notice, too distracted by the fact that one of the scholars of this world was _here, now_. The door opened dramatically, and a man stepped in, marching over to the purple-haired girl, who suddenly looked like a startled antelope. Thin gold eyes with slit pupils framed by what looked like purple eye-makeup were made even narrower by the glare on his face. Pale, thin lips twisted in a scowl under a small nose. His hair was long and black and fell in straight, silky lines over the shoulders of a green vest like she had seen many shinobi wearing. His skin was a pale gray. Overall, with his face twisted in anger and his slender frame and those _eyes_ he looked like… like…

              “Oh Merlin, it’s Voldemort’s wet dream.” Hermione said. She only realized she had spoken out loud when those gold eyes met her own. _Shit._ She thought, and then, _I hope he doesn’t speak English._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so enters our like-minded scholar. Will Hermione make a new enemy? A new friend? A really unhealthy love-interest? Who knows? Fanfiction is weird, sometimes. 
> 
> Also three cheers for my favorite character: Gai. What a babe.


	8. Chapter 8

              Kakashi didn’t get paid enough for this.

              First Minato-sensei assigns him as the guard to some brainless foreign civilian who had just _followed strangers_ into a _shinobi village_ and casually asked to exchange _valuable research_ as if that was a thing people did. He knew Minato-sensei had been trying to get him to quit ANBU (saying nonsense about how he was _too young_. Really, Minato-sensei, _now_ he’s too young?) but this was just cruel. The idiot had just followed him to the shinobi residential district without even questioning him. He could have led her down a dark alley and killed her without a single sound of protest.

              He would regret not doing exactly that when he came back from a quick shunshin to retrieve his things to find that the foreigner was crouched over the leaves he had left behind and _poking them with a stick._ Seriously. Wasn’t she supposed to be a foreign scholar? Was this the extent of foreign scientific research? _Poke it with a stick and see if it moves._ Honestly.

              Despite Minato-sensei’s request that he watch her closely for any signs of being a foreign agent, Kakashi couldn’t find it in himself to believe she was capable of… well, much of anything, honestly. She walked around grinning at nothing, and when he snuck into her room and went through her things, she didn’t even shift in her sleep. She had less awareness than most civilians who lived in shinobi villages. Unless she was a brilliant actor (and from how her every annoyed thought about him seemed written plainly across her face, he could write that possibility off), then he was almost certain she had actually _never_ been exposed to shinobi for any prolonged period of time before. She was a hick! What kind of scholarly research could she possibly have to exchange with the Leaf Village?

              But the worst thing of all – worse than the mystery of where she was keeping her toiletries and clothes when all she had was a single hip-pouch, or how she managed to pinch his ass from ten feet away, or even being stupid enough to invite _Gai_ to breakfast – worse than all of that, was when this idiot foreigner turns all the way around in her chair like she’s never even _heard_ of subtlety, and gapes right at the most terrifying ninja in the whole village like he’s just strolled in naked.

              He and Gai are both tensed, ready to flee, along with most of the clientele (Orochimaru-sama tended to have that effect on people), but his (stupid ignorant naïve innocent _god how has she not died yet_ ) charge just blurts something out in _another language_ (just where the hell is she from?!) and draws Orochimaru-sama’s attention.

              Kakashi contemplated how much effort it would take to kill himself with a tea cup when the Snake Sannin changed his course from confronting his student (and Anko looked so damn relieved… that brat was probably late to her lessons because she got distracted with dango again) and instead headed straight for their table.

              Gai met his long-suffering gaze with a serious look of his own, before forcing a grin and slapping Kakashi on the shoulder hard enough to knock him into the edge of the table.

              “Worry not! Orochimaru-sama is an honorable member of the shinobi forces of Konoha and would never bring your lovely charge to harm!” Gai whisper-yelled loudly enough to carry across the still-silent restaurant. Kakashi was torn between horror and gratitude, as Gai drew attention to the fact that he didn’t trust the Sannin, but also made a public reminder to everyone around that this idiot he was guarding was under Konoha’s protection... Which, while not entirely true, was a very Gai-like interpretation of the situation, and certainly made it more difficult for Orochimaru-sama to justify murdering her.

              “Good morning.” Orochimaru said smoothly, seeming to drift up to Hermione’s side without needing to do anything so pedestrian as _walking_. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” He took Kakashi’s idiot’s hand and placed a polite kiss on her knuckles, smiling in a way that made all the hair on Kakashi’s neck stand up. “Orochimaru, Jounin of Konohagakure. And where are you from, to speak a language I’ve never heard before…?”

              Kakashi watched in silent horror as the Snake Sannin seduced his charge. If seduction was even the right word. His actions were certainly… suggestive, but what they were suggesting did not seem to be sexual in nature. In fact, as Orochimaru propositioned her with “a _real_ cup of tea darling, not this half-class drivel,” as part of his offer to “get to _know_ one another,” Kakashi was certain that the two people across from him were having an entirely different conversation than the one he was listening to. And when Hermione nodded in agreement and took the hand offered to her, he could only reach out to grab empty air as his protests went unheard and unheeded. He stared at the spot where Orochimaru-sama had disappeared with his charge and wondered if Minato-sensei would count the mission as failed if Orochimaru-sama ate their visitor.

              He really didn’t get paid enough for this.  

             

Hermione wasn’t entirely sure how she would explain herself to Harry and Ron when she eventually told them about her travels here. _I saw a man who looked like his weird facial reconstruction had succeeded where Voldemort had failed_ seemed too alarming and _a very androgynous foreign man asked me out on a date after hearing me speak English_ would give them the wrong idea.

              Still. She had to wonder what they would think of this situation, as she sat in a traditional tea shop, half an hour of bewildered action after her first sighting of the man she now knew as _Orochimaru-san,_ one of the Leaf’s most powerful shinobi and brilliant researchers. He was supposedly the only one of the _Legendary Sannin_ to still remain fully loyal to the village, and here he was, sipping tea across from her and observing mildly, an attempt at a friendly look on his face. When his lips curved up like that, it only made him look more like a snake. By Morgana, he looked more Slytherin than Salazar himself. He’d be like catnip to death-eaters. Maybe she could convince him to come to England and just… lay out in a loose yukata and lure the remaining blood purists in for them?

              _No._ Hermione told herself. _Stop thinking about Voldie’s crush-that-never-was and start thinking about what the hell you are going to say._

              And that was the problem. Here Hermione was, finally in front of a like-minded scholar, and she was experiencing something she had never before encountered: speechlessness. Her companion clearly had no intention of breaking the ice, only eyeing her shrewdly over his cup of tea and radiating that same aura of _I might have poisoned your drink and it wouldn’t even be rude of me_ that she was probably going to need to get used to around here. There was no way he was going to be the first to speak, if anything she read about ninjas was true, so she needed to do it.

              But what does she say? _You remind me of a man I helped destroy_ was probably not a great idea, and _do you apply that eye-shadow every day or is it permanent_ wouldn’t get her the answers she actually wanted.

              She took her cup of tea between her hands and felt the warmth of it seep into her palms. Breathing deeply, she thought it smelled like chai. A small smile settled on her lips, and she breathed deeply again and focused her thoughts. She had found a scholar. She was also not an idiot – the opposite, in fact – and had definitely noticed the general reluctance to share information among the military forces here. Yet the fact that she had not been thrown out immediately suggested that it was not impossible. Just not as simple as her suggestion had made it sound. Which meant… she would need to offer something of equal value in order to get the information she wanted. Either in the form of her own information or perhaps… supplies? Potions? If she could determine the extent of what this “pseudo-magic” could do, that would help her with future bargaining…

              But she didn’t have time for research right now. She needed something to say and she needed it ten minutes ago. She took a slow sip of her tea, eyes gazing past her companion as she thought. She needed to prioritize her questions. She couldn’t just jump straight into the more complex issues she wanted to address. She needed a foundational understanding of the magic here before she could proceed with her more specific inquiries. If she could convince one of the ninja to sit through a magical examination… hell, a physical examination as well. She didn’t know for sure the physiology of this world was identical to her own. If she could get a good idea of how their cores differed from those of Muggles and Magicals in her own world, and then how it was harnessed…

              The sound of her companion setting down his empty tea cup snapped Hermione out of her thoughts. She startled slightly, wide brown eyes meeting thin yellow, realized she had been thinking in silence for way longer than socially appropriate, and blurted out the first question that came to mind:

              “How do you feel about mildly-invasive human experimentation?”

              Orochimaru blinked once, slowly, in a manner that Hermione could only describe as reptilian, before a thin, sharp expression stretched his mouth across his face in what she later realized was probably his version of a genuine smile.

              “Oh, my dear girl,” He purred, picking up the tea kettle and topping off the cup held between Hermione’s limp fingers. “You and I are going to get along _just fine._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha. So. Not much happened in this chapter - I just wanted to get a little bit of Kakashi's POV at this point. He is Exasperated™. Also refuses to use Hermione's name, even in his head, which was really annoying to write. What a rude child.
> 
> I didn't even include any of the reasoning behind why he's following her around, which I was going to, but he just started complaining and didn't stop so instead you get Whiny!Kakashi and a very weird first meeting between Orochimaru and Hermione. 
> 
> Is Orochimaru evil in this fic? Yeah, probably. He's a bad dude, dude. But Hermione doesn't know that. And despite their different morals, they have quite a bit in common. I'm sure she'll be fine. Probably.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask and ye shall receive:

               “… similar to a magical core, from what you’ve said, but magic isn’t known to circulate within the body so much as permeate it. Is this just a difference in terminology or an actual genetic variation? I would love to test it…” The tea set had been set aside as Hermione gestured expansively to an attentive Orochimaru over the low table. Her notes were in front of her as she pointed to some preliminary sketch she’d made of a typical chakra system, while Orochimaru watched her with piercing eyes. It was as she was just beginning to get an idea of where she would like to start _really_ asking questions that the door to the quiet tea shop was unceremoniously thrown open and her tiny guard and his much more likeable friend burst through.

              “Hermione-san!” Gai cries, “We have found you at last!”

              “… Gai-san.” Hermione greeted him reluctantly, thoughts still spinning around potential research avenues and entirely not in the mood to stop her conversation. “I apologize for leaving you with the bill earlier. I can of course pay you back.”

              “Your honor is without blemish!” Gai took her hands, eyes suspiciously bright. “Your pure intentions and honesty do you credit, but I am afraid that they are also a danger to the delicate Flower of your Youthful Happiness!” Hermione glanced over Gai’s shoulder as he knelt in front of her and met eyes (eye?) with Kakashi, who shrugged. “Your warm heart may beat for Orochimaru-sama, but it would be dishonorable of me to neglect to tell you what I believe to be true: no matter that Orochimaru-sama returns your affections, he will never make an honest woman of you; it would be a most Unyouthful situation for a passionate and honest Flower such as yourself!”

              Hermione had no idea what any of that was supposed to mean, but she was fairly sure she had just been called delicate, and so she tried to protest. Unfortunately, Gai proved to be just as rude as her tiny Goblin guard, and hoisted her over his shoulder like some sort of caveman, shouting a half-apology half-exclamation to Orochimaru before carrying her out the door. She squawked indignantly and looked back at the table, but Orochimaru just smiled at her with hooded eyes and finger-waved as she was carried away from a public eatery for the second time that day.

              “- _put me down you absolute brute!_ ” Hermione had lost her grip on Japanese along with her cool, and was ranting in her native tongue as she banged fists against Gai’s green-clad back. He, infuriatingly, seemed genuinely unaware that she was striking him at all. An overpowered stinging hex, performed windlessly through direct contact as her hand slapped his back, managed to startle a yelp out of him. The reaction calmed her down somewhat, and his decision to lever her back onto her own feet in the midst of a public park did even more. She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest petulantly.

              “I cannot believe the nerve of you, to come in and interrupt my conversation with Orochimaru-san like that.” She ignored Gai’s hangdog look in favor of the lecture she could feel building. “And that’s not even _beginning_ to think about how you just… _manhandled_ me out of there, like I was your lost luggage! You could have at least had the decency to treat me like a _human being._ ” She seethed, feeling the slightest tickle of static threatening to frizz her hair up. She clamped down on her magic, feeling it roil underneath her control, but the static subsided.

              “I did not mean any disrespect Hermione-san…” Gai tried to say, but Hermione steamrolled over him.

              “And you couldn’t have picked a worse time to show up!” She stomped her foot, waving one hand emphatically. “We had just been making headway into the basic differences between chakra and magical cores. A few more minutes and I think he would have been interested enough in the different functions of our systems that I could have gotten him to agree to a physical examination in exchange for submitting to one myself.” Hermione could feel her despair at the thought of that lost opportunity overtaking her anger, and her power stance deflated into a sad droop. Even her hair seemed to grow smaller in disappointment.

              Gai looked pained by the discouraged sight of the woman in front of him, while Kakashi turned a strange green color at the words _physical examination_.

              “OKAY.” Kakashi interrupted, stepping around Gai to take Hermione by the shoulders. She startled at the contact, and the unexpectedly dramatic exclamation from her goblin guard, and remained silent. “Clearly, you have been sent by some sort of vengeful god that owes Minato-sensei a favor in order to drive me insane, so I’m just going to go ahead and set some ground rules. Under no circumstances, ABSOLUTELY NONE, are you to perform any sort of action on Orochimaru that requires the removal of even a single layer of clothing,” He raised his voice to cover Hermione squawk of protest, “-and under NO circumstances are you to meet with him privately without the supervision of me or another member of Konoha’s shinobi forces _who I have approved._ ”

              “This is going a bit far for some harmless flirting, don’t you think?” She huffed exasperatedly. She wasn’t unaware of how Orochimaru-san’s actions might look from the outside. “You act like he’s not even on your side!”

              Kakashi’s hands tightened on her shoulders for a brief second before he let go. His face was back in its stoic goblin mask. Gai looked anxiously between his two companions, hands raised as if to push away the awkwardness in the air.

              “Orochimaru-sama is a highly respected figure in Konoha’s military force.” Kakashi said in a monotone. “His research and inventions have been essential to Konoha’s continued prosperity and success in recent wars. However, like many elite shinobi, he has not come out of battle unscathed. While many veterans bear scars, others simply return… changed, by the experience.” He looks away briefly, and his hand comes up to fiddle with his strangely lob-sided headband. “It is not that I do not trust him with my back on a battlefield, but shinobi rarely interact with civilians for good reason. Orochimaru… has never had tea with a civilian, as far as I am aware, and his reasons for doing so may not be as straightforward as they would seem to you.”

              Hermione blinked in shock at the melancholy child in front of her. That had to be more words than he had spoken to her up to this point, combined. She was tempted to point it out, just to see the scowl he would give her, but his still-averted gaze softened her annoyance. She sighed, considering. She knew about PTSD. No one was really the same after the War back home. Harry had it worst, but there were others… Luna could never go back to the home she was taken from without beginning to hyperventilate. Mrs. Weasley had to cover every mirror or highly-reflective surface in the Burrow before George would come to visit. Hermione… Hermione seemed fine, until she saw a flash of purple fire out of the corner of her eye, and suddenly she was back there, in the calm place in her head that whispered probabilities and chose who to save and who to kill based on utilitarian calculations and held her hand steadier than it had ever been outside of battle and _wasn’t that sick-_

              So she could understand what Kakashi meant when he said Orochimaru-san had come back changed. But she couldn’t understand why that would be enough of a problem to merit such a dramatic reaction. Perhaps it was because of the military structure. Orochimaru-san, a respected military figure, injuring a foreign visitor could perhaps have a drastic effect on his rank and position. Or even that of his superiors, if his actions reflected back on them. Perhaps Kakashi was simply thinking of some political or social consequence that she was missing. It wouldn’t be the first time such things had slipped her mind. She sighed, finally calming down entirely, and nodded her consent.

              “I’ll make sure to bring you along to our next meeting… if I can set one up.” She sighed again. “But I’m not sure what kind of public location we could use for such a thing. We can’t exactly conduct a physical in a tea shop, can we? And I’m not permitted in most of the library.” At her pouting agreement, Kakashi visibly deflated, and retreated back into his brooding shell.

              “I’ll set something up.” He muttered. She rolled her eyes at his determination to limit her interactions with Orochimaru-san, but let it slide. The poor kid probably didn’t have much experience with war veterans and trauma, being so young. It was understandable that he would be so easily spooked. Hell, he was at the age where he probably still thought cooties were real. Like the first years back home who had expressed their concern at her attending the Yule ball with Viktor Krum back in Fourth Year. How cute had their protectiveness been then? She felt her lips twitch slightly at the thought of her stoic guard showing the same level of adorable concern for her and felt herself warming up to him more. _He’s just… what’s the word? A tsundere?_

              “Yo, Gai. Kakashi. What’s up?” A voice from the street caught Hermione’s attention, and she looked up at a young man in the typical ninja uniform (she assumed. Some of them seemed to ignore it completely) approaching with a single hand raised idly and what looked like an acupuncture needle hanging out of the corner of his mouth. _That’s so dangerous!_ She thought frantically. Her _Reckless Idiot_ senses were screaming at her, so loudly in fact that she didn’t notice the discrete side-eye the new arrival was giving her as he exchanged a few quick hand-signs with her little guard and Gai.

              “Take that out of your mouth before you stab yourself in the tonsils!” She burst, flapping her hands in front of her. He blinked, caught off-guard, and made no move to do as she said. The pitch of her voice rose with her anxiety. “You’re as bad as Ron, always carrying his wand in his back pocket. A weapon is not a business card, you can’t just shove it anywhere and forget about it! Wand, gun, cursed object, or blade, all weapons should be treated as if they are live dung-bombs!”

              “… dung-bombs?” The newcomer repeated, bewildered. Hermione’s eyebrow twitched at the way the needle bobbed up and down with his speech. With a flick of her wrist that startled brown eyes followed easily, her wand was in her hand.

              “… wand?” Kakashi echoed, as if in realization. She raised her hand to level it at the needle. The newcomer stiffened slightly, but seemed more concerned than afraid. _A stick?_ She heard him mutter.

              “...WHAT IS A GUN?” Gai yelled. The sound of his voice drew the newcomer’s eyes for a split second, and Hermione silently sent her vanishing charm through the scant inches between her wandtip and its target, watching as the needle twisted itself into nothingness and disappeared.

There was a suspended moment of stillness, wherein Hermione thought to herself in satisfaction _there, much better_ , and then all three of her companions erupted into frantic yelling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Genma and I just want him to be safe about his oral fixations, okay?
> 
> Hermione feels the same. Because I say so. And also because she doesn't care about things like free will when it comes to Doing What's Right. 
> 
> Anyway, Orochimaru is not at all concerned about Hermione's guards (lol like they stand a chance) and Gai is worried about Hermione's virtue. Kakashi is just worried in general. And grossed out. (He very much believes cooties are real.)
> 
> And don't fret about the slight cliffhanger - the next chapter is halfway written (not hard, since they're so short) and I'll have it out later today, so you can enjoy the frantic yelling for yourself.


	10. Chapter 10

              “Where the hell did my senbon go-”

              “WHAT A YOUTHFUL TRICK HERMIONE-SAN-”

              “Ohmygod you’re a Mahou Shoujo-”

              “-you didn’t pull it out of my mouth I would have felt that what the hell did you-”

              “-YOUR SKILLS ARE MOST ADMIRABLE-”

              “-with a literal magic wand and everything-”

              “SILENCIO!” Hermione shouted, and enjoyed the silent opening and closing of her companions’ jaws as they slowly realized they had been silenced. She huffed at them in annoyance and crossed her arms. “One at a time, please, or I can’t understand anything you’re saying. Now, you first.” She pointed her wand at the newcomer and thought _finite incantatem._ “My name is Hermione Granger.” She said pointedly. He gaped.

              “You- You…” He pointed at her (quite rudely) and shouted, “You’re not a civilian at all!” She raised an unimpressed eyebrow. He deflated. “… Genma Shiranui.” He muttered, and then: “… looks like Kushina…” Hermione ignored that, waving her wand at Kakashi next. Her little guard stayed silent, lips pressed together and a miserable look in his eyes. She shrugged, and waved her wand at Gai.

              “-AND WE WILL SHOWER KONOHA IN THE LIGHT OF PURITY AND YOUTH!” Gai, who had not been deterred at all by the fact that his words were no longer making any sound, was saying. His smile was blinding, and Hermione had no idea what he was talking about, so she just nodded.

              “Right. Well then.” She cleared her throat. “You’re a friend of Kakashi’s as well, then, Genma-san?” She turned to Genma a bit shyly, embarrassed by her mother-henning tendencies getting the best of her (but that didn’t mean she was returning that needle anytime soon), “Did you need something from him, or were you just stopping by to say hi? You’re welcome to join us. I was just planning to spend today getting familiar with Konoha and its people.” Genma stared at her intensely for a few seconds, before looking at Kakashi’s resigned face and Gai’s beaming smile, and rolling his eyes.

              “All of your friends are weirdoes, Kakashi.” He groaned, and grinned a bit when Hermione tried to protest. “Well, if you’re going to get to know Konoha, then you need to start with the market district…”

             

              “It’s worse than Diagon Alley.” Hermione huffed, pressing herself against a building labelled “shinobi surplus” which seemed to keep most of the crowds away. Kakashi was snickering at her disheveled state (how the hell did they all seem to avoid getting shoved around by the _literal swarms of people here??_ ) and Gai was babbling about the atmosphere of the marketplace, but Hermione was learning to tune them out. She wasn’t as adept at tuning out Genma’s flirting. And he was doing a lot of it.

              “- hold onto my arm,” He was saying, leaning against the wall next to her without a hair out of place, jutting his hip out at what he undoubtedly thought was an attractive angle. “I could keep the crowds from bothering you. Perks of being a shinobi.” He winked. Hermione stared at him flatly.

              “You can’t be more than seventeen.” She deadpanned. _Fifteen,_ he corrected roguishly. She rolled her eyes. “Even better. I might look young, but I am an adult.” At his slightly blank stare, she raised both eyebrows. “As in, I don’t date children? Because I’m not a pedophile?”

              Genma barked out a laugh. “Children?” He stood up straight, seemingly dropping the flirting since it wasn’t getting him anywhere. “I’ve been a shinobi for five years! I mean, I can see your point if I was, say, Kakashi-chan here, (“You want to die, Shiranui-san?”) who looks like he’s barely out of the academy, age-wise, but come on! I’m very obviously past my academy days!” He pretended offense at her mistaking him for a schoolboy, continuing to rant and joke about the struggles of being baby-faced and stunningly handsome at the same time, but Hermione’s mind was whirling.

              What the hell was he talking about, Academy graduation? Jirou… Jiro… Akimichi-san had explained that the typical age for Academy graduates was 12. Even younger in peacetime. Hermione had thought that rather barbaric, but the ranking system made it seem that the young ninja remained genin until they were sufficiently capable of protecting themselves and completing their missions… but why would that factor in to a conversation about _adulthood_? Much less the age of consent…

              Hermione’s mind was making some horrifying connections, and if she didn’t get answers she was going to start making assumptions. She wasn’t sure which would be worse.

              “When you say you’ve been a shinobi for five years…” Hermione interrupted Genma and Gai recreating some sort of dramatic scene from a popular romantic film, from what the could gather. They remained in their ridiculous poses, but both turned to look at her attentively. She kept her face serious. “When I called you a child, and you said you didn’t look like an Academy student… what do you mean?”

              Genma frowned at her, and broke his pose, leaving Gai to carry on the scene alone. He scratched the back of his head under his bandana.

              “Well, we’re legally adults once we receive this headband, you know?” He said awkwardly, “I mean, I guess for civilians there’s an age of majority… sixteen? Eighteen? I’m not sure. But that’s really just for legal stuff. Inheritances. Not dating. I mean, obviously we don’t date _kids_ ,” he hurriedly explains, seeing the horror growing on Hermione’s face, “like, anyone creeping on an Academy student, or some little civvie kid, we’d kick their ass. But once you’re out of the Academy, and after about the first year of genin training, it’s all kind of the same, you know? I guess some people are late bloomers, and look like kids for longer, but I’m not one of them. See?” And he flexed his (admittedly impressive) muscles, as if his physique would be enough to convince her that he was in fact a fully matured adult.

              And if it weren’t for his voice and the softness of his cheeks, maybe she would have been fooled, at a glance. Genma, along with Gai, was all broad shoulders and muscles. With an impressive height advantage on her, and rather sharp features, he looked older than most fifteen-year-olds she could recall. Whether he was just an early-bloomer, or if the shinobi training system somehow affected his physical maturity, or whatever, the fact remained that he could pass as a very young adult. And in cultures where the age of maturity was less strictly defined, there would have been no question that he was a man.

              But he was _fifteen_. Hermione had been angsting over _Ron Weasley_ at fifteen. Hell, she’d been angsting over Ron and a _potion’s textbook_ almost up until age seventeen. Physical maturity was no indication of mental maturity and development! And that comment about genin being all the same after one year after the academy… when they graduate at 12… _Thirteen-year-olds are not adults!! Thirteen-year-olds can barely go to Hogsmeade!_

              “-ione-san? Hermione-san?” Gai was waving his hand in her face wildly, trying to snap her out of the daze she had fallen into.

              “… _will have to read up on local laws. Start looking for support among the general populace. We’ll need a name, of course… Maybe the Coalition of Responsible Adults for the Protection and Purity of Youths?”_ Hermione was muttering to herself in English, not even noticing as Gai attempted to catch her attention with what seemed like an interpretive dance about water polo. “ _I’ll need to make pins._ ”

              “Alright, that's enough.” Genma said, clapping his hands sharply. The noise startled Hermione out of her muttering, and she turned to him. “You said you were a scholar, right?”

              “I am.” She frowned. _Did I say that?_

              “I know a place you’ll want to see.” He grabbed her by the arm and lead her back into the crowd. She followed on reluctant feet, Gai and Kakashi flanking her on either side. She appreciated the barrier against the crowd, if nothing else.

              “Here we are.” Genma announced, tossing open a pair of nondescript doors to a dimly-lit shop. Dust motes danced out into the light in gentle swirls, and Hermione squinted into the dark to let her eyes adjust. She could make out a lot of round shapes and sharp angles… were those shelves…?

              “Oh.” She breathed, worries and frustrations melting off her shoulders as she caught a whiff of a familiar and much-loved scent. “Oh. A bookshop.” She breathed in the dust and paper and ink, looking over the rows of scrolls and paperback books on display in the tiny shop. Her heart soared at the thought of what she could learn. “I love you.” She said seriously to Genma, who sputtered and turned pink, but she had already disappeared into the bowels of the little shop.

              “…” Kakashi snickered at Genma’s flustered look. Genma glared at him and huffed.

              “Your friends are all _weirdoes_ ,” he reiterated, and ignored Gai’s encouraging yells of how he could _win Hermione-san’s heart with the written word!_

              “You’re one of them.” Kakashi pointed out. Genma huffed at him and headed over to where Hermione was drooling over an academy-intro text on chakra theory. But he smiled a little when Hermione threw him a wink and whispered, “He admitted that you’re friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genma is reasonably freaked out about his senbon disappearing. Gai seems to think Hermione's a literal street magician of some kind, and Kakashi thinks she's a Magic Girl. 
> 
> Which I think makes sense because there is canonically anime and manga in the Naruto-verse, but no serious lore about Merlin or Morgana or any typically witches and wards. At least as far as I can remember. And since this is my fic, my memory is canon. 
> 
> In a plot twist, Hermione is concerned about Gai's purity. (And everyone else's.) She plans to do something about it. But Genma is not a Chuunin for nothing; he expertly distracts her with bookstore-no-jutsu. It's super effective!


	11. Chapter 11

             The rest of the tour was hopelessly forgotten after Hermione stepped over the threshold. This was apparently a very basic bookshop, open to the public as it was, and did not contain any remotely classified information, but it still had enough to give her a good foundation in some anatomy and chakra theory. She grabbed a few promising history books as well, remembering how much use she had gotten out of _Hogwarts: A History._ With her and her guard’s arms weighed down by her purchases, Hermione insisted on returning to her hotel room to do some light reading. Any protests Kakashi may have had were muffled by the paper and leather tottering precariously in their arms.

              Once back in her room, Hermione cracked open _A History of the Elemental Nations, Vol. 1,_ and immediately stopped responding to anything that was said to her. How could she pay any attention to questions about “paperwork” and “needing to eat” when she had new books to read? Besides, after a while the questions stopped, so they probably weren’t that important anyway. Harry always charmed her books to turn into flobberworms when he _really_ needed her attention.

              Eventually, though, the sun did as it is prone to do and began to set, casting a dimmer and dimmer glow across her page until eventually Hermione’s nose was rubbing against the parchment of her book, and no amount of squinting could help her make out the more complex kanji. She thought about getting her wand out to summon some of her favorite blue bell flames but decided against it. Despite the Statute of Secrecy not being in effect, her old habits were hard to break. Besides, the lack of artificial lighting in this dimension reminded her of the year she spent on the run with Harry and Ron. They had always made sure she went to sleep once it got too dark to read because “that’s a bloody sign if I ever seen one!” as Ron put it.

              Smiling slightly at the thought of her friends’ scolding, Hermione marked her place and put her book away. Stretching her arms above her head and moaning quietly at the chorus of pops her stiff spine let out, she looked around the dim room blearily. Her little guard was sitting in the windowsill, holding a clipboard and a pen, and watching her expectantly. She blinked at him.

              “Um. Hello?” Hermione tried. She thought she saw his eye twitch, but it was hard to tell in the dark. “Did you need something?”

              “Why yes, in fact I do.” Kakashi purred. Hermione had a bad feeling about that tone of voice. “I need to know whether you have any skills or services you can use to create a form of income.”

              “Skills?” Hermione blinked. “I suppose the most useful skill I have as far as trading goods here would be potion-making. But I would need to know a bit more about the needs of a ninja village and what you already have easy access to in order to really say for sure… I suppose I could always sell charmed objects on commission. If it’s a question of money, though, I have enough.”

              “Enough to rent a space to live and work in a foreign village, pay the taxes and extra fees involved with being a foreigner on a temporary (and extremely questionable) visa, and still feed yourself for… however long it is you plan to stay here and work on this project of yours?” How he managed to look so skeptical with ¾ of his face covered, Hermione had no idea. “You don’t even know how much it’s going to cost.”

              “Well, that’s true at least.” Hermione agreed. “Do you think I’ll need more than this?” She unzipped the side pocket on her hip pouch and overturned it, pouring out a small mountain of galleons, almost waist height and about a meter and a half in diameter.  The noise that came out of her little guard reminded her of the time Ron’s spell backfired and caused him to vomit slugs. She looked at his pale face (or at least she thought it was pale. Seriously what was he hiding under all that?) in concern. “Kakashi? Are you alright?”

              “Please tell me that is your chocolate coin collection and not the single largest pile of precious metal I’ve ever seen.” He begged. Hermione’s brow furrowed.

              “Well, each galleon has a core of iron, although the outer two millimeters are pure gold. Still, it’s less precious metal than it seems at first glance.” She tilted her head consideringly. “You’re right, though. I could separate them out into their individual components with a couple quick spells. It might be the best course of action, considering there is probably no exchange rate between galleons and… what is it you use as currency here?”

              “Ryo.” Kakashi wheezed. Hermione wondered if he had been given his title as a Jounin as compensation for some sort of accident. He showed many symptoms of common stress disorders.

              “Right. Ryo. With no exchange rate, it will be best to sell the metals themselves. This is probably… 200 kilos of gold, at least. How much will that get me?” Kakashi lets out a sound like a deflating balloon, and Hermione adds another point to her “benched for a stress disorder” theory.

              “Enough. It will get you enough.” He mutters. “Let’s just… get started on this paperwork, so you don’t end up in a den of snakes and I can go to bed.”

 

              “Oh, it’s perfect!” Hermione beamed at Kakashi where he ducked his head ever so slightly in reaction, letting Gai and Genma’s enthusiasm over her new home overshadow his silence. After a few days of the little goblin pushing paperwork and meals onto her between chapters of her new books, she had come to the conclusion that the mask was a way for him to cope with his shyness without making it obvious how bashful he felt. It had taken a bit of time for the two of them to find a rhythm in between Hermione’s laser-focus on her research and Kakashi’s reticence (“It’s called being a ninja! A NINJA! I am STEALTHY not SHY—you’re not even listening, are you?”), but they had eventually fallen into something like her relationship with her roommates back at Hogwarts. Her research would always take priority, but as long as he waited for her to finish a chapter before attempting to interrupt, she would at least listen to whatever he had to say. Which was usually something along the lines of _please fill out section three of this form_ or _you have not slept in 38 hours you moron go to bed_.

              But he had gotten her a house! Honestly Hermione had no idea how he had managed to pull it off. She had only been in the village a total of five days. And while she had spent a lot of that time immersed in books, she had also allowed herself to be dragged out to lunch each day by Gai and Genma, which meant Kakashi was also dragged to lunch (she suspected Kakashi was the real objective here, but she enjoyed the more talkative company from time to time. It reminded her of the Weasleys).

              Where he had found the time to go house-hunting between all the forms he had been making her sign and the meals he insisted she eat every five to six hours, she couldn’t fathom. Did he ever sleep? Perhaps she could put in some sort of good review for him with the Hokage’s office? She wondered if this society had its own version of Yelp. She’d definitely give him five stars for this one.

              Her new property was tucked between a ramen stall and a clothing store called _The Practical Kunoichi_ that had some very intriguing skirts on display in its front window (were those _bladed garter belts?_ Oh, she was definitely stopping in there sometime), with a nice shady tree out front that looked like it might bear some sort of fruit later in the year. It was a modest two-story number with the upper level being its own studio apartment and the lower level being a cross between a public workspace and living area. It had a front room that could easily be reconfigured into something like a casual store, but which would be a perfect workshop for her current research. In the back was a reasonably-sized storage closet (which would do very nicely for her supplies after a few expansion charms on the sly) and a kitchenette. The only bathroom was upstairs in the apartment.

              “It’s perfect.” Hermione said again, overwhelmed by the relief she felt at having something like a home base again. She knew from experience that she could live in her tent indefinitely, and the hotel she’d been staying in was only an improvement over that, but there was something about having an actual place to call her own that helped to settle the nerves she hadn’t even realized had been bothering her. Spurred on by her unexpected emotion, she tossed her arms around Kakashi’s tense shoulders, pulling him into a hug. “Thank you so much, Kakashi!”

              Something sharp pricked her inner wrist and she blinked down at the log in her arms. It had a face drawn on it in hiragana characters. She was pretty sure it said “scarecrow”. And she was also pretty sure it had just given her a splinter.

              “Don’t worry darling, Kakashi just doesn’t know how to handle women.” Genma slid an arm across her shoulders with a casual smoothness that reluctantly impressed her. “I, on the other hand, can appreciate all the fine sensations of a woman’s embrace. Her warm, soft, _voluptuous_ embrace.” His hand inched its way down her back to fondle her rear end. She twisted and passed the log into Genma’s hands, which he accepted instinctively as she muttered the sticking charm under her breath the moment his hands settled on the bark.

              “Why are you giving me thi—hey.” Genma tried to yank his left hand free, eyes widening as both palms stuck to the surface of the log as if glued there. “What the hell?”

              “You should watch those wandering hands of yours.” Hermione smirked. “Tree sap can be very sticky.”

              “WORRY NOT!” Gai abandoned his celebration of her new home (at least she thought that was what the one-handed push-ups were about) in a burst of motion. “I MUST OFTEN REMOVE SAP FROM MY JUMPSUITS AFTER VIGOROUS TRAINING! I WILL RETURN WITH MY ULTRA YOUTHFUL SPRINGTIME SAP CLEANING SOLUTION IN THREE MINUTES OR I WILL PERFORM ONE THOUSAND HIGH KICKS WHILE HOLDING MY BREATH!” And then he was gone.

              “Better hope Gai’s cleaning solution is the magic kind.” Hermione winked. Genma raised his log-filled hands to the sky in supplication.

              “So obviously not a civilian.” He despaired, “Why am I the only one who seems to notice?”

              “What are you doing with that log, Genma?” Kakashi stood next to Hermione as casually as if he hadn't just been using his ninja magic to hide from her. “Put it down and help me check for old perimeter traps.”

              “Don’t act like you weren’t watching you little punk!” Genma shook his log in rage. “I can see that stupid henohenomoheji you like so much on here. This is obviously somehow your fault!”

              “Perhaps if you played around less you wouldn’t have gotten sticky sap on your hands.” Kakashi said serenely, strolling onto the property with his hands in his pockets. “It’s really unbecoming of a ninja of your rank.”

              The strangled sound of rage that escaped Genma’s mouth at that moment had Hermione clutching her stomach in laughter. The warm feeling lingered long enough for Gai to return with his cleaning solution and for her to cancel the sticking charm only after Gai had dumped an entire bucket of the stuff all over Genma’s front.  With a new home, new friends, and more and more research questions presenting themselves every day, it was amazing how much she suddenly felt like her old self.

             She had a good feeling about this place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha it's like 1AM here bruh I usually go to bed at 9 help meee
> 
> Anyway I honestly just really want to write the next chapter after this so I decided to get this done real quick and post it. If it's terrible because I haven't actually looked over it... Meh. You'll get over it.
> 
> Kakashi works hard to keep Hermione from going home with Orochimaru using the Power of Paperwork! (And many forged signatures.)  
> Hermione ponders Kakashi's health, not realizing that she IS his stress disorder.  
> Genma learned all his flirting techniques from Jiraiya.
> 
> Next time, Hermione settles in and meets the neighbors!


	12. Chapter 12

              Hermione had been living in her new home for about a month, furnishing her workshop and her small living space with glee. She’d expanded the storage closet into a veritable treasure trove of potions ingredients and magical reference materials, and layered every locking spell she knew over the door, including a sleep spell keyed to knock out anyone except her and her immediate blood relatives (if said spell was classified as dark back in the UK for its use of blood for the key, well. She wasn’t in the UK at the moment, and no one had to know). She was excited to have finished preparing her workshop for active experiments, reinforcing the walls and layering resistance spells over all the furniture within it.

              She had taken every precaution to recreate the level or quality that she had been accustomed to in her lab back home, so there was no reason for her potions to be reacting so strangely.

              She peered into the roiling black mass of what should have been a simple color-changing potion, double checking her ingredients before squinting suspiciously at the star chart she had copied meticulously from one of the local books. She had been absolutely sure that the planets and stars were correctly aligned, and none of her ingredients were out of date, so what was the problem?

              Perhaps the astronomy here was not as similar to her own dimension as she’d thought? It certainly _looked_ like the same sky and stars as she was used to. But perhaps there was some difference she was missing. Some material in the stars here that caused a different wavelength of radiation to be produced that would skew her calculations for how the alignment of the stars would affect the ambient magic-

              She smacked a hand to her forehead, vanishing her failed potion with a flick of her other wrist. _You’re the smartest idiot in the world._ She thought exasperatedly to herself. _What was the first thing you noticed when you arrived, Hermione? There’s more ambient magic in the air here than there ever was at home! All of your potions are going to be off unless you isolate them from the magic here or recalculate your baseline and change your measurements to fit._ She groaned. That calculation was not going to be a fun one, but she didn’t want to be limited to only making potions within her workshop, which she could seal off with a bit of time and effort. She needed to redo her calculations so she could work wherever and whenever she needed to. She would just need to buckle down and do it, and in the meantime seal off her workshop so she could make the potions she was almost out of.

But where was she going to find a spot where she could measure ambient magic without her spells picking up the magic of the people around her? She would need to find somewhere along one of the three leylines she had discovered running through Konoha, where no one would wander too close for the 24-hour period it would take to get a full reading.

_Orochimaru-san would know._ She thought suddenly, and then looked around guiltily as if Kakashi was going to jump out from behind her now-empty cauldron and scold her. He had taken to wandering off somewhere to play with his friends (“I’m _training_ ” he said, _“I am a deadly assassin –_ stop ignoring me!”) when she got too deeply into her research to pay attention to him. He said it was because “it’s not like you’re going to wander off when you have your nose that deep in a book” but she thought he was probably just feeling neglected. And it worked well; she got to pursue her research, he got to see his friends, and they’d found a rhythm of sorts where she usually wrapped up her experiments for the day around 9pm and Kakashi would finish his training at 8:30 so that he could meet her for a late dinner and “guard” her until she went to sleep. If her potion had gone the way it was supposed to, she would still have been absorbed in her work for the next few hours, easily.

              Unfortunately, her work had been placed on hold until she could fix this problem, and her perfectionist nature was insisting that Orochimaru would be able to help her redo her calculations faster than she could hope to do them on her own. She wouldn’t even really need to interact with him for long, just ask a few quick questions about the magical properties of certain areas of Konoha and off she’d go. She could just… run into him in public and make sure they didn’t go anywhere alone during their very short talk. That wouldn’t be breaking any of Kakashi’s rules at all!

              As she slipped out onto the street and locked her workshop behind her with a wave of her hand, she ignored the little voice in her head that drawled _wasn’t going around town on your own_ also _against the rules?_ Because it’s not like she was going to get up to any trouble.

 

              Running into Orochimaru casually in the street was a lot easier said than done. She had no way of telling which of the signals from her tracking rune was his, and on top of that, they all seemed to move much faster than should have been possible if not for her theory that “pseudo-magical” had been a rather loosely-used descriptor for the Elemental Countries. Still, they clearly weren’t apparating, so she should have at least been able to cross paths with one of them by now, despite their speed. Yet she’d seen nothing. Were there some sort of underground ninja tunnels she didn’t know about? That seemed just cliché enough that it might turn out to be real. She groaned, heading in the direction of the dango shop where she had originally run into Orochimaru, to have a snack (it was getting late) and on the off chance he decided to stop by again tonight.

              She was about half a block away from her destination, glaring suspiciously at the ground beneath her feet ( _I know you’re down there, you damn tunnel-loving ninjas_ ) when she almost tripped over something about the size and weight of an adult house elf. She squeaked and stumbled to the side, looking around for what she’d hit and…

_Sweet Merlin Below_ , she thought, _It’s a miniature Professor Snape._

              The boy was probably less than five years old, absolutely tiny and thin as a rake, although he didn’t seem to have been knocked over by her almost tripping over him (oops), which was impressive. He had straight dark hair down to his chin in a neat bob, little tear tracks under his eyes that made him look older and more tired than should be possible for someone so fresh out of toddler-hood, but it wasn’t just the coloring that reminded her of Snape _._ The blank eyes, the raised chin, the subconsciously haughty posture; all of it screamed _bat of the dungeons_ and she almost wanted to apologize for being late to Potions, despite having graduated from Hogwarts years ago. _At least it’s just his looks,_ she thought to herself. _I mean, what are the chances of this kid also having a twisted, self-destructive sense of honor that makes him prone to useless self-sacrifice that traumatizes everyone around him?_

              “I’m sorry for bumping into you!  I was just about to go get some dango while I wait for my friend to show up.” Hermione stood, somewhat clumsily, and brushed her pants off. “I’m Hermione, if you want to join me. I’ll buy you some as an apology. What’s your name?”

              There was a beat of silence as mini-Snape regarded her suspiciously, but the moment the word “dango” was mentioned, the blank look in his eyes was replaced by a greedy one that did nothing to lessen his Snape-ishness. After a minute, he stepped forward, still keeping a distance from her but clearly deciding to join her.

              “My name is Uchiha Itachi.”

 

               Itachi was an odd kid.

               Well, Hermione said that, but her usual opinion of children was that she liked the ones she hadn’t met yet best. Children were loud, selfish, and had an embarrassingly weak comprehension of formal logic. It was enough to drive a witch mad. But Itachi was strangely tolerable. He didn’t waste time with small talk, but answered her questions about the location of his guardian(s) succinctly and with a guarded neutrality that warmed Hermione’s paranoid heart. In turn, he asked relevant questions, showing impressive subtlety for such a young kid as he tried to determine if she was a threat. The look of concentration in his dark little eyes told her that he was trying to memorize everything she said. She had no doubt that he would be reporting to the nearest authorities the minute he was out of her sight.

               It was so cute.

               She was just about to offer to buy him a fourth stick of dango (he deserved it after a particularly sneaky question about her blouse led to her revelation that she was from a country where the weather tended to be colder and wetter than Konoha) when mini-Snape perked up in his seat as if he had been bitten by a flobberworm.

              Twisting to see what had caused the odd reaction, Hermione caught sight of a heavily pregnant woman standing just in the doorway of the dango shop with a hand on her hip and several heavily-laden grocery bags weighing her down.

              “Let me help you!” Hermione blurted, before her brain caught up with her mouth and realized she hadn’t even said hello yet. “Ah, sorry.” She stood and bowed. “Hello, my name is Hermione Granger. Would you like some help carrying your groceries?” She gestured toward the bags with a glance at the woman’s enormous stomach, but she only got a chuckle in return.

              “What a sweet girl. My name is Uchiha Mikoto. How did you come to be eating dango with my son when I seem to remember asking him to grab some eggs from the stall down the street, oh, half an hour ago?” Mikoto had long black hair that fell in a gentle wave over her shoulders, and a softer, rounder face than her son, but the eyes were unmistakably the same, sans tear tracks. Hermione blinked at her, and then over at Itachi, who was examining the empty plates in front of him (that little shit had eaten the rest of her dango when she was distracted-!), and then back to Mikoto, his _mother_.

              “Oh, I apologize for keeping him from his errands.” Hermione stepped in as Mikoto smiled serenely and Itachi acted like she was a basilisk and eye contact would kill him. “I ran into him on the street earlier, and asked to buy him dango as an apology. I was waiting for a friend of mine, and he was keeping me company.” She smiled sheepishly. “He’s a very bright child. I really enjoyed talking to him.” For the first time since she had arrived, Mikoto’s expression changed. She seemed a bit surprised, as she turned to look at Hermione fully.

             “You enjoyed it?” She asked, and Hermione frowned a bit at the odd question, but nodded nevertheless.

              “Yes. It’s rare to find a challenging conversation from someone so young,” she said honestly. “It’s fun to see how he approaches a problem with such a young perspective.” Mikoto looked between the two of them for a moment before approaching her son and speaking to him lowly enough that Hermione would have had to strain to hear it. She didn’t, out of courtesy, but she felt the sting of regret as Itachi visibly hesitated to answer whatever his mother had asked, before shyly nodding. The look on Mikoto’s face was unreadable as she turned to look at Hermione again, seeming to stare right through to her soul.

              “THERE YOU ARE.”

               Hermione yelped as Kakashi’s furious voice sounded from right behind her. He knew how much she hated being snuck up on, which of course meant that he did it _all the time_. She whirled around, fully intending to tell him off as usual, only for the words to die on her tongue at the genuinely angry look on his face. _I forgot to leave a note, didn’t I?_

              “Ah, Kakashi, I can explain-”

              “She was just watching my son while I ran some errands.” Mikoto cut in smoothly. Hermione was sure her look of confused surprise gave away the lie to Kakashi immediately, but no one said anything about it. “It’s a bit hard to keep up with a young boy with another one so ready to join the family.” She laughed sweetly, patting her round stomach, and Hermione admired her ruthlessness in playing the pregnant mother card so shamelessly and so well. Kakashi (bless his socially stunted only-child upbringing) looked visibly uncomfortable.

              “Ah, I was, um. Happy to help?” Hermione tried to play along, failing miserably. She was normally an excellent liar, but this conversation was threatening to give her whiplash. Mikoto gave her a look that Hermione took to mean _put down the shovel, dear_ , and Hermione wisely went back to silently pretending she knew what was going on.

              “I see.” Kakashi said awkwardly. “It’s just that Hermione isn’t really supposed to be running around Konoha unaccompanied, Uchiha-sama, so…”

              “Does she seem unaccompanied?” Mikoto feigned polite surprise and confusion so well Hermione thought she probably had an Oscar or three somewhere at home. “I mean, both Itachi and I were here when you arrived.”

              “Ah.” Kakashi acknowledged, slumping. “Right. Well, nonetheless, I should be accompanying her back home. It’s getting late.” He sent a short glare at Hermione, who hurried to step toward the door agreeably, not wanting to increase his ire. It was only the sight of Mikoto gesturing for Itachi to come with her and talking about walking home that caused her to hesitate.

              “Mikoto-san.” Hermione couldn’t help herself. “You never answered me, but would you like some help carrying your groceries? I really don’t mind.” Kakashi certainly minded, but he seemed too gobsmacked that she’d even offered to be angry. Mikoto once again looked surprised at the genuine offer, before she laughed. Not her restrained chuckle or the sweet, airy laugh she had used on Kakashi, but a surprisingly deep, throaty laugh, almost like a bark.

              “You really are very sweet.” She said, “But I will be fine. I’m a kunoichi.” At Hermione’s blank confusion, Mikoto seemed to realize this was not enough of an explanation. “Tell you what, if you really want to help out a poor pregnant mother, come have dinner at the compound this week. I haven’t been able to get around as easily since little Sasuke has hit his first growth spurt, so it would be nice to have some female company.” She smiled as she ruffled her son’s hair affectionately. “It gets tiring being surrounded by all these men.”

              Hermione couldn’t help but smile at the sight, and found herself nodding. It _would_ be nice to have a female friend – or hell, even a friend who wasn’t assigned to guard her or directly connected to said guard – and she wouldn’t mind seeing mini-Snape again.

              As Hermione answered Mikoto’s questions about days and times that would work for her, she didn’t see Kakashi tilt his head back to look up at the ceiling as if in supplication. She didn’t see his cloth mask shift slightly as he mouthed _why does this keep happening_ , and she didn’t see the wickedly amused look Mikoto shot his way while Hermione was writing down the address to the Uchiha compound in her planner. What she did see, when she finally looked up and said her goodbyes to the little family, was Itachi’s stare as he watched this all happen in front of him. That stare said: _I thought I knew how much of an idiot you were, but you have surpassed my expectations._

             That kid really did look too much like a tiny Severus Snape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi is beginning to believe in God (because there must be Someone who hates him, specifically) and Itachi watches his Mom talk circles around the Hokage's apprentice like he's just some snot-nosed tween (wait...).
> 
> Mikoto is just Desperate to get Itachi to socialize more, even if it's with some weirdo foreign child-snatcher with an incompetent ANBU guard. 
> 
> Hermione makes a friend*
> 
>  
> 
> *gets tricked into guest starring on next week's episode of the Uchiha Family Soap Opera.


End file.
